#Capsules for Muscle Relief

[fusioncbdproductsllc]

Discover the best CBD Capsules for Muscle Relief at Fusion CBD Products. Our high-quality capsules provide effective pain management and muscle recovery, helping you stay active and pain-free. Formulated for optimal absorption, they offer a convenient and powerful solution for muscle discomfort. Visit our blog to learn more about the benefits and how CBD can enhance your wellness routine.

[marketvibes]

Pure Encapsulations Magnesium (Glycinate) - Supplement to Support Stress Relief, Sleep, Heart Health, Nerves, Muscles, and Metabolism* - with Magnesium Glycinate - 90 Capsules

Heart Health Supplements: This magnesium glycinate capsule activates the enzymes necessary for neuromuscular contractions, cardiac function, and more*

Overall Health & Nutrient Metabolism: This magnesium glycinate supplement helps the metabolism and utilization of vitamin B6, vitamin C, vitamin E, and more*

Energy & Bone Support: Magnesium supports metabolism of carbs and amino acids; supports energy production and use of calcium, phosphorus, sodium, and potassium*

Magnesium Capsules for Sensitive Individuals: Magnesium glycinate is a form of magnesium that's less likely to cause loose stools than other forms of magnesium

Pure Difference: What we leave out matters, too; Pure Encapsulations products are free from common allergens, artificial or unnecessary ingredients, and GMOs

your chance now to benefit this product

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

You drag yourself through the door, muscles aching from the day’s mission. Tracking Wanderers had drained every ounce of your energy.

“Welcome back,” Xavier says, his voice even as he glances up from his seat. His eyes linger on your exhausted posture.

“I just need...” you start, but don’t finish the sentence.

Xavier nods once. “I understand.”

Without another word, he rises and disappears into your bedroom. Curious, you follow after a moment to find him arranging pillows against the headboard and smoothing fresh sheets over the mattress. He’s placed a glass of water on the nightstand.

“You had a difficult mission today,” he states rather than asks. “Rest will help.”

You feel a wave of gratitude as he steps back from the freshly made bed. It’s exactly what you need—no questions, no demands for conversation.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

The corners of Xavier’s lips lift slightly. “I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.”

As he turns to leave, his hand briefly touches yours—a fleeting warmth that speaks volumes more than words could. The door closes quietly behind him.

You sink into the bed, appreciating how he knew exactly what you needed without you having to explain. Outside, you hear the soft sounds of him moving around, close enough to be reassuring but giving you the space to decompress.

Just before you drift off, your phone beeps once—a message from Xavier: 

Sleep well. I’ll be here when U wake up.

Simple, direct, but somehow exactly the comfort you needed.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

You return to the Hunter’s Association HQ to report your mission. As you close the door, you finally muffle the chaos you’ve left behind. You text Zayne that you need space tonight—just a simple message before pocketing your phone.

When you arrive home hours later, you find the lights dimmed and a note on the counter: “Food in the fridge. Vitamins beside your plate. Take care of yourself.”

You open the refrigerator to find your favorite takeout neatly packaged beside a similar container labeled “Zayne” in his handwriting. A small smile forms despite your exhaustion.

After heating your meal, you sit at the kitchen island, grateful for the silence. The room door opens, and Zayne emerges, apparently just finished with his shower. His eyes meet yours briefly as he nods in acknowledgment.

“Rough day?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t press further, instead moving to heat his own meal. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable—it’s understanding.

Zayne places two capsules beside your plate. “B-complex and magnesium. You’re probably depleted from today.”

You take them without comment.

He sits across from you, both of you eating in a comfortable quiet. When your phone lights up with notifications, he reaches over and turns it face-down without asking.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Hmm,” he hums.

After dinner, he collects both plates. “I’ll be in the office if you need me. No obligation to talk.”

Later, you pass by the home office to find him reading, glasses perched on his nose. He doesn’t look up, giving you the space you requested, but the door remains purposefully open—an invitation without pressure.

When you finally decide to sleep, you find a cup of herbal tea on your nightstand, still warm.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

You close your apartment door, leaning against it with a sigh of relief. The text to Rafayel had been simple:

Need some alone time today. Nothing personal.

You switch your phone to silent and place it screen-down on the coffee table, determined to enjoy the quiet. Twenty minutes into your peace, the phone screen lights up repeatedly. Despite your resolve, curiosity wins, and you peek.

Flood of messages from Rafayel:

just found the most beautiful pearl today [photo attached] not as beautiful as you though  do you think it belonged to a giant clam the ocean was perfect btw not rushing you but when you feel better we should go pearl hunting miss your face already cutie no pressure just know i’m thinking of you [photo of a ridiculous sand sculpture that looks vaguely like you] made special sand art for my miss bodyguard hope you’re feeling better take all the time you need but don’t forget come back to me  i love you cutieee

You can’t help but smile at his stream of consciousness updates. He’s respecting your space physically while still sharing his day with you.

Hours later, your doorbell rings once. When you check, there’s no one there—just a small package wrapped in colorful paper. Inside is a beautiful pearl, cleaned and polished, with a note:

For your collection of memories. Take all the time you need, and keep this little piece of the ocean with you. - Rafayel

The gesture is so like him—giving you space while still finding a way to connect. You place the pearl on your windowsill where the setting sun catches its iridescent surface, creating tiny rainbows across the wall.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

You text Sylus that you need some alone time because you know how much he values communication between you two.

Take the time you need. Just keep me updated.

You sink into your couch with a sigh of relief, grateful for the quiet. A few hours later, your doorbell rings. The building attendant calls up: “Delivery for you that needs a signature.”

Inside the sleek black box is a soft blanket, a small air purifier, and some fancy tea with a handwritten note: ‘For your comfort. This should help you breathe easier. Let me know if it helps.’

You smile at the gesture and send him a quick message:

Got the package. Thank you.

His response appears almost instantly:

Good. how are you feeling?

You appreciate that he checks in without demanding your time or attention.

Better. Just needed some quiet.

He replied again,

Understood. dinner will arrive at 7.

True to his word, your favorite meal shows up, from a restaurant you mentioned once weeks ago. The note this time simply says, ‘Eat well.’

Before bed, you message him again:

Thanks for understanding today.

He replies quickly:

Your well-being matters to me. Now rest well. I’ll see you when you’re ready.

The message captures exactly what you appreciate about him—he doesn’t mind giving you space as long as the lines of communication stay open. It’s his way of showing he cares while still respecting your boundaries.

In the morning, when you finally feel recharged, you find another small gift outside your door—a sleek new communicator with a note: ‘This one has better reception. So we never lose touch, even when apart.’

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The door to your shared apartment closes behind you with a soft click. You’d texted Caleb earlier:

Not feeling too well. Need space tonight.

His reply had been immediate:

take all you need. I’m here.

True to his word, he’s nowhere to be seen when you enter, though evidence of his presence remains—your favorite comfort foods in the fridge, a freshly made bed, and your laundry neatly folded.

You curl up on the couch, wrapped in silence. Hours pass as you decompress, your mind slowly unwinding.

At 7 PM, a gentle knock at your door. “Hey,” Caleb’s voice, soft through the wood. “Dinner’s outside if you’re hungry. No need to talk.”

When you open the door, he’s already retreated to the other room. A covered tray sits on the floor—your favorite meal still steaming.

Later, as you’re about to tackle the dishes, you discover they’ve already been done. The kitchen is spotless.

Around midnight, you hear the front door open—Caleb returning from a late Fleet meeting. His footsteps pause outside your door before continuing to his guest room. He’s giving you the space in the bedroom reserved for you without being asked.

In the morning, you wake to find your uniform pressed and ready, your boots polished, and a travel mug of your preferred morning drink waiting. A note leans against it:

Hope you slept well. I had to head in early. Take your time today. I already called your Captain to clear your morning schedule. - Caleb

Through the window, you catch sight of him in the distance, his Colonel’s uniform crisp as he strides toward Fleet Headquarters. He glances back once, spots you in the window, and gives a simple nod before continuing on his way.

Based on this request.

I legit had to open the game and check the chats just to see how they typed, lol, so I tried to match the format as closely as possible.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 3 masterlist

-

You don’t know exactly what you’re waiting for, but it doesn’t happen.

The man doesn’t appear again. No one knocks on any windows or appears on any scans though you run another one not twelve hours later. It’s not enough to convince you that it was all in your head, but it’s enough for you to start the process of putting it out of mind. 

You just can’t shake the unease following you, a shadow extending out from your feet. Your skin feels tight against your face, clinging to the muscle and bone; months under artificial light will do that to a person, sap them of something essential that can’t be replenished with just vitamins capsules and supplement injections. The human body isn’t meant for space travel. It longs for the sun and the earth under its feet. 

And now you have something new to worry about. 

Much to your relief, Hadir doesn’t bring up your earlier encounter at dinner. Though part of you wonders whether he mentioned it to anyone else, he doesn’t outwardly treat you any differently. Amiable as ever. It goes a long way towards assuring you that he must have put your earlier encounter out of his mind already. You should too. 

It’s just that—

You’re the person the crew goes to when they need fixing. Abrasions, lesions, migraines, broken bones, aches and pains. Though your training is in emergency medicine and space physiology, years of clinical rotations and field research have equipped you with an extensive medical background. Not the least of which includes psychological and neurological health. You’re the de facto psychologist on board should any of the crew suffer a mental health crisis.

And if there’s something wrong with you, who’s going to fix it?

You sit with that thought for entirely too long, but then one day passes into the next and nothing happens. When you look out the window, you only see the throughline of the universe, its heart tipped over and the milk spilling out. The ambient light in the station keeps you from seeing it as clearly as you’d like, but it’s there when you look out the window, ever-present. 

Still, you can’t help thinking about an astronaut somewhere out there, slipping into the darkness like a cold lake dragging a body down into its depths and holding it tight to its breast. 

You shake off the thought. Scrub a hand down your face. 

When your stomach rumbles, you ping the crew to let them know you won’t be in the medbay should they need you and head out to grab a bite to eat. Nikolai is already eating at the counter in the galley when you come in to make yourself supper. 

No crew dinner tonight. Though you eat together for the most part, there are days where work tasks keep everyone’s schedules from lining up. You know from the morning briefing that Alex and Graves will be busy until well into the evening working on celestial navigation and dead reckoning.

He looks up from where he stands hunched over the steel tray of food in front of him, a mix of rehydrated rajma, rice, and raita, and waves his fork in a silent greeting. 

“Is that what’s on the menu tonight?” you ask.

The big man nods, pointing towards the pantry with his fork. “New week. No more Hamburger Helper,” he says with no small amount of derision towards the aforementioned meal. 

You smile. “Looks good.”

Though the new ownership thankfully didn’t skimp on food rations, most of the crew’s daily meals were determined months ago, long before the ship’s departure back on Earth. There’s a laminated week by week menu tucked away at the back of the pantry listing each day’s repast from departure until arrival, but you haven’t given it so much as a glance since you boarded. Better to have something to look forward to every day. 

The food packet from the pantry goes into the rehydrator for the requisite amount of time and then into the crisper to add the texture back to it. Space food is never quite as satisfying as the food back on Earth, but you’ve grown fond of it in recent years, even enough to crave it back home. No matter the dish, you can always taste the faint peppery, slightly bitter undertaste, like fresh watercress. 

You’d been planning on eating by yourself back in your quarters or at a table in the mess, but you feel weird just leaving Nikolai to his own devices after exchanging a few pleasant words, so you join him at the island counter. 

“Did you have a lot on your plate today?”

“My plate?” Nikolai asks, looking down at his food. “Нет, not so much—I had big lunch at around four o’clock.”

You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “No, I meant, did you have a lot of work?”

“Ah, why didn’t you just say that? Yes, lots done today, lots more to do tomorrow. Farah and I are still working on finding the root cause for the issue with the cruise control.”

“It’s a tricky fix?”

“Yes. Complex,” he grunts, talking around the food in his mouth. After weeks of eating with him and longer working around cut open bodies and exposed organs, you’ve long learned to suppress any sign of disgust on your face. “The pilot augmentation system isn’t controlled by this ship’s AI, so it’s not an easy software fix. We thought it was component degradation from the asteroid the other day at first, but Farah had a look at it today and all seems good, so not so sure now. Maybe gyroscope malfunction. Maybe GPS receiver is having issues. Hard to say. Lots of work still to do.”

You nod as if you understand. Most of it goes over your head apart from the obvious frustration in his voice. 

“Would be easier problem to fix if we had specialist, but—” Nikolai shrugs, a rueful look on his face “—little budget, small crew. Better we have doctor for wrist sprain than specialist to fix pilot augmentation system.”

Though his tone isn’t necessarily bitter, you can’t help but prickle at the light sarcasm. Your impulse is to go on the defense. It isn’t your fault medics are mandatory. Certainly not your fault that the original twelve crew member allowance was slashed to only six. 

“Farah and you make a good team,” you say instead, ever the diplomat. Magnanimous despite the way your teeth ache in your gums. 

“Smart girl, that one. Would clone her if I could.”

His praise makes you look away only because you wish it could be aimed at you. You crave it these days. Not necessarily from Nikolai, but from anyone. The downside of these longhaul missions is that you go months without interacting with family or friends; it’s why space crews bond so strongly with one another, the only reprieve from the claustrophobic sense of isolation out in space. It’s also why you’ve felt as lonely as you have these past few months, emotionally out of sync with this crew. 

“Let me know if there’s any way I can out,” you offer as he finishes up the last of his supper, putting his tray away into the dishwasher.

Nikolai nods. Hums. “Could do with another pair of hands.”

You smile, relieved.

He starts heading towards the door, throwing a hand up behind him to wave goodbye. “Will let you know when I find some way you can be useful.”

The smile slips off your face. The doors slide shut behind him, silence filling the room. 

You don’t have it in you to eat much more. Most of your meal goes straight into the compost, along with the empty packet, and then you leave the galley as well. The last couple of hours of your day are spent sitting aimlessly at your desk in the medical unit until it’s time to head back to your quarters to shower and sleep. 

And then to bed you go. 

In the middle of the night—though the meaning of ‘night’ seems boundless out in space, like a word without a cognate—a deep sense of unease throbs in your chest. 

Sleep sloughs off you gradually and then all at once. One minute you’re twisting in the web of a nightmare and the next, your eyes are open, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. 

You sit up in bed with the dull ache in your chest growing worse. The duvet slips off you and piles around your waist, the sheets under you damp with sweat. It hurts like heartburn. 

It’s too early for breakfast and you don’t have to pee. You’re not entirely sure what woke you up actually, your last dream already fading away, the threads of it unraveling when you reach out to try and pull it back in. It’s too far away to recall any of it. Propping yourself up on one arm, you twist to the side, hoping to let the sight of the stars guide you back to sleep. 

Out of your window, like a lone buoy in the middle of the ocean, an astronaut floats in the middle of space. 

For a moment, it doesn’t register. Likely just a dream that you haven’t woken up from yet. It’s remarkably vivid for a dream though. Your room is a cool dark blue, the band of dim artificial lights encircling the window beside your cot giving your quarters the distinct feel of a night back home on Earth. It’s only when you pinch your bare thigh and wince from the sharp, accompanying sting that you grasp that you’re awake. 

You are awake and there is a man floating away from the ship. 

The light from the ship glints off his suit, illuminating the shape of him. You stare out at him with increasing concern and dread. Not consciously grasping the gravity of the situation, but aware that you need to do something. He’s farther away this time, so distant that though his white spacesuit is stark against the dark field behind him, the visor of his helmet is impenetrable. Dark as obsidian. 

He drifts aimlessly in space, his body so still that you wonder if he’s even alive. With a jolt, you wonder if, in your haste to find help the other day, he did run out of oxygen and simply floated away. Occam's razor. You did not imagine a man speaking to you from outside the ship only for him to vanish from existence; he simply passed out while you were gone and drifted off before you could save him. 

“Oh shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed, nearly getting tangled in your sheets on the way out. You don’t even bother changing into more appropriate clothes, slamming the button to your door and squeezing through the gap between the door and the wall as soon as it opens for you. 

The corridor outside your room runs from stern to bridge, and is dimly lit at this time of night. The ship oscillates through Earth-tethered day and night cycles, the lights only at their brightest at a certain point aligning with morning back on Earth to simulate the distant sun. A slight chill to the air as well, to mirror night. Artificial photic and nonphotic zeitgebers to ensure the body maintains its circadian rhythm. Necessary to prevent sleep deprivation and keep the crew from going mad.

Now though, it makes you feel prey-like. Small. Darting from your room to the cockpit like a mouse scurrying across the savanna under the cloak of darkness and moonlight. 

Your bare feet smack against the metal floor as you run, the sound following you down the main corridor towards the cockpit. You pass another porthole but don’t bother glancing out of it, too intent on reaching the main viewing deck. You’ve got to—

Get the body help him save him I’m so sorry I left you out there—

Alex and Graves’s heads snap up as you barge into the cockpit panting and drenched in sweat. You don’t bother to explain yourself, heading straight for the flight deck window instead and leaning over the dashboard. The edge of the panel digs into your pelvis as you lean into the window. 

You crane your neck to look left and right, scanning as far as your eye can see. The astronaut you saw off in the distance from your bedroom window is gone. Only stars and dust shine from lightyears away. 

It doesn’t make sense. You saw him with your own two eyes drifting out there. You couldn’t have mistook him for anything else—not with the shape of his body, the helmet obelisk black. But there’s nothing out there. Nothing at all. 

“Doctor?” Alex asks tentatively from behind you, standing up from his chair. 

When you glance over your shoulder at him, wide-eyed, reality finally begins to seep back into you. The two of them stare at you from the other side of the cockpit, their concern and wariness evident in the tension in their shoulders. 

“Um—sorry. I…”

You don’t really know what to say. There’s no excuse that seems appropriate, no way of explaining the state of you, panicked and out of breath. For all intents and purposes, it’s the middle of the night. No reason for you to be out of your quarters and so disheveled. Panting like something chased you out of bed. 

You wonder what they would see if they cut you open; if they’d find your intercostal muscles bruised from the heavy beat of your heart. 

“Somethin’ you wanna share with us, doctor?” Graves asks. His tone is far less charitable, verging on suspicious.  

You swallow on a dry throat. “No, I’m—…it was nothing. I just…I had a bad dream.”

From the way they look at you, you can tell that neither of them believe you. It's flimsy, as far as excuses go. But there’s little else they can do but take you at your word. The rules are different out here, more tolerated than back on Earth. Everyone goes a little stir crazy; you just have to know how to manage it. 

“I should go back to my room,” you whisper when neither says anything. 

You move towards the door on cautious feet, suddenly aware of how cold it is in the cockpit. Goosebumps ripple down your arms and legs, nipples beading under your shirt. Alex politely averts his eyes when he notices. If you were less distressed, you’d be humiliated. 

“Get some sleep,” Graves says, eyes following you until the doors close behind you. 

You walk back to your quarters slowly, pausing to glance out one of the portholes just to confirm that you haven’t made a huge mistake. 

A minute or an hour goes by. You see nothing out in the distance.

Back in your room, you shut off the automatic light that comes on when you enter and collapse into bed. You avoid looking out the window for your own sanity, instead turning over onto your side. Wide awake now. Nothing to do but wait for sleep to sneak up on you again, if you haven’t scared it off entirely. All you can do is think about the look on Alex and Graves’ faces and cringe, pulling the blanket up over your head. 

Sleep almost finds you again when something knocks twice on the wall beside your head. 

Your breath catches in your throat. Fear scuttles across the floor beneath your bed. Just don’t look. Don’t look at it. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for it to go away. 

Whatever it is knocks again. The window this time. 

It takes an age to work up the nerve to roll back over. When you look up at the window, a face stares back at you, so close now that you can make out dimples and thick lips turned up at the corners. A close-shaved beard.

He smiles down at you, heedless of the horrified look on your face. “Hello again, love. Care to let me in now?”

[eli0004]

Since you guys have been eating up my Levi HC content, i raise you another fun thought I’ve had recently:

Taking aphrodisiacs with him???😩😩😩 golden.

(Warning: 18+ content)

They come in many forms, pill capsules, chocolate candies, cigars. In this particular instance they are chocolates, given to you as a gag gift. You know the kind you get for $20-$30 at the adult store to spice up your sex life? There are two to a pack, and meant to be shared.

You absentmindedly toss them on the kitchen counter with the intent to throw them away, but when Levi comes over that evening, he, much to your surprise, seems interested in trying them out. He says he’s skeptical about how well they actually work for such a steep price, and only two to a pack. And “what’s the worst that could happen, a good fuck?” He says.

Fine by you.

So you open the packaging and each take one, before settling down to watch a movie.

The first 30 minutes is pretty uneventful and you begin to think Levi was right to be suspicious. He’s snuggled up on the couch with you, nestled between your thighs with his back to your chest, and showing no signs of overwhelming horniness.

Ten more minutes, however and you’re absentmindedly tracing shapes against his thigh, thinking thoughts that are far from innocent. Levi has begun squirming in his seat, sweat beading at his hairline but his body feels cold. Suddenly his resolve is slipping and he’s struggling to control his thoughts. Your featherlight touches against his thigh feel teasingly pleasurable, and all he can think about is how desperate he is to be touched properly. If you brought your hand close enough, Levi thinks he’d shamelessly rut himself against it, just to get some relief.

It’s you that breaks the silence, beckoning him to turn around to face you. That’s when the sloppy, hasty kissing begins, your hand is dipping below his waistband, and Levi is excessively vocal. The desperation is evident in his furrowed brow, burning cheeks and lust blown pupils. He burries his face into your sweaty neck as you stroke him with your hand tightly shoved down the front of his jeans, but it’s not enough, god damn he would hump your leg like a dog if you’d let him.

The first time he cums it’s so intense he loses his hearing for a moment, legs shaking and it just won’t stop coming out of him. He’s moaning against the skin of your neck, and it feels like it goes on forever. He stays hard as a rock. The second time he cums, you yank his hair back and force him to look at you and you can see him visibly staring to float away. He’s making little “ah ah ah” sounds and you tell him he’s doing so well and sounding so cute for you. The third time he cums, he’s boneless, trembling all over and clawing to pull you as close as possible, grabbing your hands to hold and keep him grounded. His tummy feels tight and his core muscles are exhausted but he doesn’t want to stop.

You give him one more, a fourth one, grinding down on his over sensitive, twitchy cock. He has tears welling up on his lower lash line and he looks absolutely ruined. When you’re done with him, he’ll crawl between your legs and get you off until you’re well past satisfied.

[thoughtportal]

When Simon Bogemann’s hand began cramping around the steering wheel in a claw position on his commute from Geelong to Melbourne, he began to worry.

Bogemann, then 43, was also getting pins and needles in his feet and fingers every night in bed, and while sitting down during short lunch breaks at work.

His GP put it down to a lack of magnesium and recommended a supplement, in addition to the multivitamin he was taking for a chronic condition.

Bogemann was unaware that both capsules contained added vitamin B6, too much of which could lead to the symptoms he was experiencing – a type of nerve damage known as peripheral neuropathy.

The wellness industry’s marketing of over-the-counter vitamins is leading to an increase in the number of people presenting with peripheral neuropathy linked to excessive vitamin B6 in their blood, Australia’s peak body for pathologists has warned.

Dr David Kanowski, a chemical pathologist at Sullivan Nicolaides Pathology in Brisbane, says most people are unaware they are consuming too much of the vitamin.

Bogemann certainly had no idea: “You buy an over-the-counter supplement, you just think that it’s going to be good for you, not bad for you.”

He says it has been a challenge to change his multivitamin to a product without B6.

“One thing that I have learned is that B6 seems to be added, for some reason, to a lot of over-the-counter supplements.”

It is also in some energy drinks, breakfast cereals, and protein and weight loss shakes.

Magnesium tablets, commonly recommended for cramp relief, often contain B6 because it can assist magnesium absorption. But a person who takes two magnesium tablets a day could consume more than 120mg of B6, far exceeding the recommended dietary intake for adults in Australia of 1.3mg to 2mg a day.

It was previously believed that peripheral neuropathy was caused by doses of hundreds of milligrams taken over periods of 12 months or more but cases have been known to occur at levels as low as 21mg.

The initial symptoms include numbness and pins and needles in the feet, which can spread up the legs. Muscle cramps and pain may be felt in the arms and hands.

In 2020 the Therapeutic Goods Administration released a safety advisory warning. Two years later, still concerned about a lack of awareness, the TGA lowered the limit at which products must display a warning label, from 50mg of B6 down to 10mg – and banned products with more than 100mg.skip past newsletter promotion

after newsletter promotion

Nevertheless, cases have continued to rise. Between January 2020 and October 2024 the TGA received 81 adverse event reports of peripheral neuropathy associated with medicines containing a vitamin B6 ingredient, with most of them reported in the past two years.

Kanowski says advertising on social and other media promotes the idea that taking more vitamins is good for health.

“It’s understood that if you want to counteract bad habits, like smoking or drinking too much, perhaps that can be counterbalanced with vitamins,” he says.

Kanowski says the TGA has been “fairly hands off” unless toxins are in a product.

Fiona Sammut, a dietitian based in Victoria, says it’s a big ask to expect consumers to read and interpret “tiny font” disclaimers and formulations.

People who see claims that vitamins will “boost their energy” may take several supplements thinking they are harmless, she says.

While foods are commonly fortified with vitamins for “specific evidence-based reasons”, such as vitamin B1 fortified bread, Sammut says there’s no similar reason for B6 fortification because there isn’t a high incidence of vitamin B6 deficiency.

Most people get enough B6 in their diets from foods including fish, non-citrus fruits and starchy vegetables, and high intakes of B6 from natural food sources have not been reported to cause adverse effects.

Sarah* had symptoms of peripheral neuropathy for years, but “never thought anything of it”, because she assumed they were related to her Crohn’s disease.

In hindsight, she says, the symptoms began about a year after she began taking a multivitamin that contained 60mg of B6 after weight loss surgery in 2011, in addition to the magnesium which contained 82mg she had been taking for years due to cramps in her legs.

She had been having yearly blood tests at her dietician’s recommendations but it was only in late 2021 that the pathology lab tested for B6 levels and found they were 15 times higher than the recommended range.

In most cases, once B6 levels return to normal, peripheral neuropathy will slowly improve within six to 12 months but in some severe cases it can be irreversible.

Prof Matthew Kiernan, the chief executive of Neuroscience Australia, has described a case he saw in his clinical practice of a 40-year-old patient who was worried he had motor neurone disease before the doctor linked the gym enthusiast’s symptoms to excessive vitamin B6 intake from the supplements he consumed as part of his fitness program.

Kiernan, who diagnosed more patients with peripheral neuropathy after his article on the case was published in the Medical Journal of Australia, believes there should be limits on the number of supplements people can buy because they are unnecessary for people eating a balanced diet.

“None of this is policed,” he says. “So, if you go down to the chemist and go down the vitamin aisle, they’re all there. You can get a whole shopping trolley full of them.”

[hotasfahrenheit]

AYYYYYY it's me your neighbourhood florist girl with the flower knowledge again!

of COURSE the hydrangeas in the opening credits of the first episode of Spare Me Your Mercy caught my eye and i went "hmm if there's more flowers in this episode then i'll have to make a post" then we just got more hydrangeas but with an obvious focus on them so here we are!

hydrangeas are native to both Asia and the Americas, and while Japan is notorious for having cultivated them, there are ancient fossils of hydrangea blossoms from North America which means they grew in a variety of places and spread from there.

in Japan, hydrangeas traditionally symbolize heartfelt emotion, apology and remorse, because of a legend about an emperor giving hydrangeas as a gift to apologise for neglecting a lover. in Europe, where they were brought in the 18th century, they symbolised boastfulness, bragging and vanity because they produced many blooms but few seeds, and were sent by men to women who had rejected them. in Korea, they represent perserverance and resilience.

the general meaning of blue hydrangeas specifically now lays somewhere around serenity, apology, gratitude and understanding.

hydrangeas are a neat flower in that some varieties can act as a pH gauge for your garden soil- higher acidity leads to blue petals, but alkaline soil will change the petals to pink. by changing the acidity of your soil, you can adjust the colour of the petals. (white varieties can't be manipulated because they don't have pigment.)

they grow from early spring to late autum, and though most grow as shrubs around 1-3m tall, some are small trees and others grow as lianas, which are a long stemmed woody vine that climbs other trees; these varieties can reach up to 30m tall.

if you have cut hydrangeas at home, you can help maintain their bloom or restore wilting by immersing them in hot hot HOT water- even boiling- to help them freshen. the petals can also absorb water since they're technically actually a type of leaf, so you can also dunk your hydrangea blooms into room temperature water petal-first to help them rehydrate. this is a thing i've done at work as a florist- at the grocery store chain i started doing floral at, we always put our hydrangea bunches into buckets of steaming hot water, the hottest we could get from the faucets, when we processed incoming shipments and had given them fresh stem cuts before putting them out for sale.

in both Japan and Korea, some varieties of hydrangea are used for tea, while in the Americas, the Cherokee used the root as a diuretic and the bark as pain relief for muscle pain and burns, and as a remedy for stone and gravel in the bladder.

hydrangeas are also known as hortensia. the name "hydrangea", which derives from the Greek words for "water vessel", comes from the shape of the seed capsules, which resembled a water pitcher. they're called hortensia, supposedly for the name Hortense and after French astronomer and mathematician Nicole-Reine Lepaute, who was not actually named Hortense at all. she was named Nicole-Reine. someone tried to name them Lepautia or Peautia after her, but since they ended up being called hortensia (probably from hortus, which means garden) it's reversed into people thinking Hortense was her name instead of them being actually named after her.

so yes, with the associations with apology, remorse, serenity, understanding.... i'm not surprised to see them here, especially in the episode itself, but i am very intrigued, especially since being in the opening credits means we'll see them there at least through the whole show even if they don't show up again in the actual narrative. the fact that they symbolise remorse and grow around Tiu's mother's house, when he wasn't able to be there to see her before her death, is not lost on me.

hope this knowledge dump was fun and interesting to at least someone! i'll be back with another of these posts next time i catch some significant flowers in another show 🌸🌼🌹🌺🌷

[theambitiouswoman]

Natural Remedies for Common Ailments 🍃

*Natural remedies can be a great option for managing common ailments, but it's important to remember that they may not always be a substitute for professional medical advice and treatment. If you have a serious or persistent health issue, it's important to consult with a doctor. Also, remember that what works for one person may not work for another. Do your independent research, some natural remedies may have interactions with medications or existing medical conditions.*

Cold and Flu:

Honey and Lemon: Mix honey and lemon in warm water to soothe a sore throat and ease congestion.

Ginger Tea: Ginger has anti-inflammatory properties and can help with nausea and congestion.

Echinacea: Some people use Echinacea supplements or tea to boost the immune system.

Headaches:

Peppermint Oil: Apply diluted peppermint oil to your temples for headache relief.

Ginger Tea: Ginger may help reduce the frequency and intensity of headaches.

Indigestion:

Peppermint Tea: Peppermint can help relax the muscles of the gastrointestinal tract.

Chamomile Tea: Chamomile has anti-inflammatory and relaxing properties.

Insomnia:

Valerian Root: Valerian root supplements or tea may promote relaxation and help with sleep.

Lavender Oil: Lavender aromatherapy or a few drops on your pillow can promote relaxation.

Small Burns and Cuts:

Aloe Vera: Apply aloe vera gel to soothe burns and promote healing.

Honey: Honey has antibacterial properties and can be applied to cuts and wounds.

Stress and Anxiety:

Exercise: Regular physical activity can reduce stress and anxiety.

Meditation and Yoga: These practices can help you relax and manage stress.

Lavender or Chamomile Tea: These herbal teas may have a calming effect.

Sore Throat:

Salt Water Gargle: Gargling with warm salt water can relieve a sore throat.

Marshmallow Root Tea: Marshmallow root tea can help soothe throat irritation.

Nausea:

Ginger: Ginger candies, ginger tea, or ginger capsules can help with nausea.

Peppermint: Peppermint tea or candies may also help alleviate nausea.

Constipation:

Fiber-Rich Foods: Eating foods like prunes, bran, and beans can promote regular bowel movements.

Hydration: Staying well-hydrated is essential for preventing constipation.

Acne:

Tea Tree Oil: Applying diluted tea tree oil to acne-prone areas may help reduce breakouts.

Honey and Cinnamon Mask: Mixing honey and cinnamon into a paste and applying it as a mask can be beneficial for some.

[winterarchives]

Big Ouch. Hopper drabble

Never in your 29 years on this planet had your periods caused you this much pain. You couldn’t move without feeling like you’d collapse from a muscle spasm, but you couldn’t stay too still because that gave the cramps time to build and ripple through your body like a damn earthquake. 

You’d taken two doses of pain reliever since Hopper had left for work earlier in the day, meaning that he’d be home soon. You wound your arms tighter against your knees, body curled in on itself in retaliation against the harsh attacks of your period. 

Definitely not your finest moment. You were just happy that your boss at Hawkins High had allowed you the day off. 

You unfurl yourself and twist your chest in the opposite direction of your arms, trying to alleviate the pain with stretches, but immediately regret the decision, more pain pounding through your abdomen. 

Cursing, you scoot towards the top of the bed, sitting up slowly and grabbing the large walkie-talkie Jane had allowed you to use to contact Hop while she was at school. 

You pressed down on the large button and put your mouth next to the speaker, “Hopper, you there?” You groaned, arching your back. 

“Just got in my truck, heading home now, what’s wrong?” 

You smiled at his gravelly voice, tears falling. Great, your emotions were all over the place, too.

“I hurt more than this morning,” you sniffle, “get home soon.”

“Of course.” He says lightly, and you grin harder against your tears. He’d be home soon. 

You’re not sure when you drifted off, but when you wake up, Hopper is bringing you your favorite tea and a brand new pack of pain reliever. 

“Thanks.” You croak, letting him drop the capsules on your tongue and swallowing them down with the steaming tea. 

“You look pale,” Hopper scrunches his face, “scoot.” 

He helps you move a bit when you can’t do it on your own without grunting and sits down next to you, eyes squinted and tongue peeking out between his lips. 

Wordlessly, he raises the back of his hand to your head, and you recoil back.

“You’re cold.” You grit your teeth and hold back a shiver.

“No, you’re burning up. Have you felt sick?” 

“Not particularly.” You say after thinking for a moment, “Sometimes I run a temperature with my periods, though.” 

You shrug at his unconvinced face and snuggle against his chest, waiting for the pain reliever to work its magic, and you blink.

Or, at least, you thought you did. It’s completely pitch black outside when you reopen your eyes, and you feel like you’re on fire. Your abdomen feels tight, and you slowly get out from your spot in the bed next to Hop and stand, thinking you probably need the bathroom.

You’re up for two seconds before you feel an unbearable pain deep in your belly, and your consciousness slips away. 

Light dances across your closed eyes, and you don’t want to open them because you’ve already woken up plenty of times today. You just want good sleep. The steady beep next to you, however, is deeply unsettling. Begrudgingly, you let your eyes drift open, not wanting to confront what you already suspect. 

“She’s awake!” Immediately, Jane’s face is over yours, big brown eyes worried and staring into yours. 

“Hey,” Hopper whispers, turning your head hurts, but somehow you manage. His eyes are worried, too.

The room starts coming into view, and you’re sad that you were right. You despise hospitals after the events of the Mind Flayer. 

“What happened?” You ask, head fuzzy as you try to recollect your night. “Honey,” you look towards Jane, “are you okay being here?” 

She smiles gently at your worry and squeezes your hand. 

“I’m ok.” She answers, and you exhale your relief and squeeze her hand back weakly. 

“To answer your question,” Hopper starts, grasping your other hand lightly, “you passed out in our bedroom, nearly gave me a heart attack. We drove you here.”

“Fast,” Jane adds, and Hopper glares at her. 

“Yes, fast. Turns out you had appendicitis. Your appendix was on the verge of rupturing, but we got you here in time because of my fast driving, and they removed the damn thing before it caused worse damage.” 

You panic a little because now you’re acutely aware of the sutures in your skin on your stomach and the IVs in your arms. 

“Hey,” Hopper looks at you, gripping your hand tighter, “you’re fine, okay? You’re going to be fine.” 

You bite down on your lip and nod your head, and Hopper kisses your cheek.

“I love you, Y/N.” Jane tells you, hugging you a little too tightly. 

“Careful, careful,” Hopper warns. 

Jane recoils fastly, looking at your stomach.

“Sorry.” She pouts. 

“Hey, it’s okay, maybe just hug my hand for now, yeah?” She nods at your words, brown curls bouncing around the frame of her face. 

“Did it hurt?” She asks. 

“Definitely. It was a big ouch.” 

“Big….  ouch?” She tests the word on her tongue. 

“It means it hurt very much.” You answer smiling, “But it’s nothing ice cream can’t fix.” 

Jane smiles brightly and glances at Hop, “Ice cream?” She asks. 

“Yeah, ice cream.” He agrees, standing up and already heading to the cafeteria.

[tgreatd]

Rooftop fight did not end well for Saint - Part 2

Saint’s body convulsed as the pain wracked through him like an unrelenting tide. His shallow breaths were fast and erratic, each inhale dragging jagged shards of agony through his chest. His lips quivered, words reduced to weak, incoherent whispers.

Shin rushed back with the bag within minutes.

“Saint, hold on!” Shin’s voice cracked as he fumbled with Saint’s bag, hands trembling. His fingers slipped off the zipper before he finally tore it open, rifling through books and crumpled papers. A small, battered case fell out, its contents rattling.

Shin snatched it up and threw it open. Inside were several blister packs of pills, their labels printed with instructions too tiny to read in the dim rooftop light. “Which one is it?!” Shin muttered desperately, glancing toward Mr. Sung.

“The white capsules! Quickly!” Miss Jan pointed, her voice sharp with urgency.

Shin’s hands fumbled as he popped a capsule free from the blister pack. Saint’s body jolted beneath Mr. Sung’s firm grip, his eyes half-lidded as he fought to stay conscious.

“Saint,” Shin whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ve got your meds. Please… you have to take this.”

Saint’s head lolled to the side, his face drenched in sweat, lips pale. Shin gently cupped his jaw, tipping it forward. “Come on, Saint, swallow this for me. Please.” His voice cracked again, the raw emotion spilling out as he pressed the capsule to Saint’s lips.

Saint gagged weakly but managed to part his lips enough for Shin to slip the pill inside. Miss Jan handed Shin a bottle of water, and he guided it carefully, tilting it just enough for Saint to sip. Each swallow was labored, Saint’s throat convulsing as he struggled against the pain’s grip.

For a moment, silence hung heavy over the group as they watched Saint, waiting.

Then, a slow but steady change began. Saint’s breathing, though shallow, evened out. The wild trembling in his limbs subsided to faint shivers. His features, once twisted in agony, slackened into exhaustion. His hands, clenched so tightly they’d turned white, now lay limp at his sides.

“He’s stabilizing,” Mr. Sung murmured, relief evident in his tone.

Shin’s legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees beside Saint. Tears streamed down his face as he reached for Saint’s hand, gripping it tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words choking out of him. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Saint’s eyes fluttered open, heavy with fatigue but still searching. He swallowed hard before rasping, “You... punch hard.” His lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, though it was laced with pain.

Shin let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sob. “Don’t joke about this, you idiot.”

Miss Jan stood, glancing between the two boys. “We need to get him off this rooftop. He needs rest and possibly a hospital checkup.”

“I’ll carry him,” Shin volunteered immediately, already moving to lift Saint.

“Be careful,” Mr. Sung cautioned. “He’s still weak.”

Saint groaned as Shin hoisted him up, the movement jarring his tender muscles. “Don’t drop me, Shin,” he murmured faintly, voice slurred from exhaustion.

“I’ve got you,” Shin promised, tightening his grip.

Hours later, they were back in the nurse’s office. Saint lay on the cot, his head propped up with pillows and a cold compress resting on his forehead. His breathing was steady now, though each rise and fall of his chest carried a faint tremor.

Shin sat on a nearby stool, his elbows resting on his knees, his head buried in his hands. Guilt gnawed at him like a predator.

The silence stretched until Saint spoke, his voice a fragile whisper. “You still angry at me?”

Shin’s head snapped up, his eyes red and glassy. “How can you even ask that? After what just happened?”

Saint let out a small, breathless laugh, though it quickly turned into a cough. He winced. “You… always were dramatic.”

“Saint, stop,” Shin said, his tone pleading. “This isn’t a joke. I—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair. “I could’ve killed you, Saint. And all because I couldn’t control myself.”

Saint shifted slightly, wincing at the lingering soreness in his neck. “I’m still here, aren’t I? And I know… I know I’m not innocent in all this.”

Shin stared at him, his jaw working as he struggled to speak. “Why didn’t you tell me about your condition? That you were this bad?”

Saint’s gaze flickered away. “Didn’t want to make things harder for you. You already had enough to deal with.”

“Harder?!” Shin’s voice rose before he caught himself, lowering it to a whisper. “Do you think this is easier? Watching you collapse like that?” His hands clenched into fists. “I made things worse.”

Saint reached out weakly, his hand brushing against Shin’s. “We’ve both messed up,” he said softly. “But this time, I’m not going anywhere, I'm not running away Shin. So stop blaming yourself.”

Shin looked at him, tears welling again. “You’re an idiot, Saint.”

“Yeah,” Saint murmured, his eyes drifting closed. “But I’m your idiot.”

Shin let out a shaky laugh, gripping Saint’s hand tightly. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

Saint didn’t reply, already slipping into a deep, medicated sleep. But his fingers curled slightly around Shin’s, a silent promise that he’d fight to stay by his side.

And for the first time in hours, Shin allowed himself to breathe.

[cj-marj]

Same Old Thing

Sonic/Shadow fanfic heavily inspired by It ended, but let’s talk okay? By Trashriver on AO3

Word count: 1961

It’s been a few days since the multiverse was saved and Shadow disappeared with the Prism.

With the assumption that Shadow had hidden it in a secure spot, Sonic continued one with life as usual. But as the days passed, Shadow’s presence remained absent. Sonic found himself running through forests under the guise of wasting time in search of his rival but to no avail.

While he was aware that Shadow was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, much better than Sonic could admit for himself, he still wished for the sight of him if only to cure his anxious heart. Shadow was a constant throughout the multiverse ordeal. Even now, the memories of racing through the different realities float through his mind like wisps of smoke. He wonders to himself sometimes if he dreamt it all up on the beach only to wake up to the distant sounds of fighting from the mountain. But then the memory of Shadow would arise, and doubt would tug on Sonic’s arm.

He tried to explain to his friends the events that took place (and took the liberty to omit what he saw fit) but all he was met with was confusion woven into their facial features. Knuckles had even suspected him of having a concussion. Sonic waved it off with a light laugh and simple, “You weren’t there.”

But Shadow was.

The memories of the new friends he made during that adventure cling to him like stubborn pieces of plastic on his fingertips. He struggles more deciding whether or not to let them fall away or leave them as they are.

Sonic’s never wished so desperately to run into Shadow as he does now.

Here he lies awake.

The moon has risen to the highest point in the sky and sleep is nowhere near him. Sonic sighs to himself.

In the soft wind, the curtains shift and with them, the light dances. When he shuts his eyes, he sees the anger-filled face of his brother’s doppelganger, Nine. They are standing before the prism, Nine with tears in his eyes and Sonic with a lump in his throat.

He opens his eyes. The moon has begun to fall.

He sits up in his bed.

The frame is old and rickety. It creaks with each movement he makes. It’s a red race car, painted to resemble Lightning McQueen. The red paint has chipped along the edge of the wood and the yellow has faded. He feels Nine’s phantom body within his arms before his last moments with him, then his entire arm twitches.

This is all he has left. Apart from the memories, this tic is a constant reminder of what occurred: his mistake, his failures, his loss, his near-death.

“Man, I really messed up,” he chuckles in a self-deprecating manner. At times, he still feels the static all over his body. The heat escapes him and it’s like he’s back there all over again, lying in the capsule with life slipping through his fingertips.

He feels another jolt coming on and he brings his knees up in a stubborn attempt to evade it. It doesn’t work. Every muscle in his body instantaneously contracts and relaxes at once. He groans as the feeling passes and tries his best not to move.

This is all he has left.

There’s a soft thud on the roof top. Sonic remains still listening for more and only moves when the thud evolves to soft footsteps along the ceiling. He looks up with a furrowed brow, before making his way out the window.

There, on the ledge, stands the object of his desires over the last few days.

“Shads?”

“…Sonic.”

They stare at each other silently with quiet questions running around their heads yet ultimately underlined with relief.

“Why’re you on my roof?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Sonic breaks into a smile without even meaning to. He leans onto one leg with an arm on his hip. “That’s not fair.”

Shadow doesn’t grant him the honour of a reaction and simply continues to watch. Illuminated under the pale moonlight, Shadow’s straight and careful red gaze makes him a little melancholic. Sonic looks away. “Wanna go for a walk?” When Shadow raises a brow in question, he responds, “Don’t wanna wake Tails up.” That’s enough to get Shadow to hop down before they start towards the trees.

They move at a pace much slower than usual but neither of them seems bothered by it. Sonic keeps his eyes on the ground as he tries to formulate his thoughts. Suddenly, all the questions that had been accumulating in his head have vanished and Sonic finds himself a little agitated.

“It… all of that happened, right?”

It only takes a moment for Shadow to respond. “It did.”

“Right.” That grants him a brief respite. “Where’d you take the prism then?”

“As if I’d tell you.” Shadow sends him an incredulous glance and Sonic chuckles, raising his arms in surrender.

“Worth a try. And thanks for taking it off my hands for me,” he adds just to be annoying, and he cheers inside when Shadow rolls his eyes. His gaze swivels back to ground whilst Shadow looks on ahead. “I had enough of that stupid rock anyway,” he mumbles.

“Me too.”

They fall silent again. Sonic wonders how long this moment of peace might last between them and how nice it is just to see Shadow again when he feels another spasm coming on. It causes him to stumble in his step and he pauses for a moment to let the brief feeling of pain pass away. Shadow stands frozen next to him, startled.

Sonic chuckles with a nervous wave of his hand. “I’m fine! I’m fine.” He rises back to his full height and rolls his shoulders partly for show. “I think my body is just kinda readjusting after all that, y’know?”

Shadow stands as stiff as his shoulders feel. A cool breeze blows across the land, but Sonic finds himself sweating. “I swear I’m alright! You worrying over little old me, Shads?” He speaks in a loud, nasally tone, leaning into Shadow’s space with the idea he’d step away. But Shadow remains in place watching him with a tight expression. A cloud shifts away from the moon and a shadow grows underneath his eyes. Sonic leans away.

“Shads?” He ponders over his next words. “You okay?”

The question spurs Shadow into walking away. “I’m fine.”

Sonic stumbles after him. “You sure? ‘Cause you look kinda tired. Are you—”

“I don’t need to rest, Sonic. I’m—”

“Oh, cut the crap,” he groans with a roll of his eyes. Shadow continues on with a downward curve to his mouth now. “Are you seriously going to continue on like this after all that?” He emphasizes, motioning his hands towards nothing.

Shadow halts and prods at Sonic’s chest. “You’re the one that needs sleep,” he spits with such venom that makes Sonic think they aren’t talking about sleep anymore.

He slaps Shadow’s finger away. “Well, I can’t sleep.”

Shadow turns away with a scoff. “Shocker.”

“Seriously?”

“You almost died Sonic! Is anyone supposed to be normal after that?!”

“Is it that big of a deal? It’s not like I haven’t—"

“That doesn’t make it make it any less fucking weird! I held you in my arms! You were—" He voice breaks, and so does the rest of his expression. Sonic is heaving while Shadow rubs his gloved hands across his face and into his quills with a desolate look in his eyes as he regards the trees. He’s quiet again and knowing him, he’ll disappear in a few seconds. But Sonic isn’t ready for this to be over. He wasn’t ready for any of it to end.

In a moment of desperation, he grabs Shadow’s wrist before the words come spilling out of his eyes. “I thought you were gone when I woke up. You were the last thing I felt before it all went dark. I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t even hurting anymore. I was just warm and thinking about what you used to wash your fur because you smelled so stupidly nice. Then I was lying in the grass, and you weren’t there. No one was there and I thought,” He hiccups. He steps away from Shadow to scrub the ticklish feeling from his face. “Maybe I finally died, and this was some stupid fucking version of hell just for me.” He’s pulled into a gentle embrace.

He's in the void again with his life fading as fast as he was moving, and his body being held in the arms of someone desperate to right a mistake he never made.

Sonic sniffles and buries into Shadow’s shoulder. All his words come out a jumbled mess. Even he can’t tell what he’s saying anymore but he continues to ramble as Shadow caresses his quills.

“I’m sorry,” he hears himself mutter minutes later. “That I dragged you into it and messed up so many times.” He listens to the steady beat of Shadow’s heart. “Sorry I made you save me.”

“…I would do it again.” The leaves susurrate around them, clapping for the setting moon and the passing clouds. “I’ll bring you back home and I’ll beat that sacrificial attitude out your damn head, watch you mess up again, then, I’ll save you. Again. And I’ll keep saving you—”

Sonic breaks into sob that overpowers the sound of Shadow’s voice, but Shadow continues even as Sonic’s legs give out and they both crumple to the ground.

“I didn’t want to die,” he laments.

“I know.”

“I didn’t want to let him take it.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want to leave him there,” he chokes.

“I know, Sonic.”

He grabs onto Shadow and squeezes their bodies as close as physics would allow. “I didn’t want to admit that they were gone. I didn’t want to, but I messed up! And I thought I wouldn’t ever fix it and that I was going to die, and you wouldn’t get to come back—”

“Sonic.” Shadow holds his face carefully in his hands. “Look at me.”

“No,” he weeps as he tries to move away but Shadow only grips on tighter.

“Sonic, just look.”

Through all the tears and snot, Sonic manages to meet Shadow’s eyes.

For the third time that night, Sonic finds himself stuck on the look in Shadow’s eyes. “I wasn’t going to let you die, no matter what. You managed to fix the realities, and I was going to get us back home. No matter what. Do you believe me?” Towards the end, Shadow’s voice shrivels up in a way that makes his question of reassurance sound more like a plea.

Sonic’s attention bounces between both of those ruby irises, the trees surrounding them, the moon above, before returning back to Shadow’s steady gaze. He sniffles, then nods carefully. Shadow offers him a small smile and Sonic finds that he can’t look away.

“You look stupid,” Shadow says.

Belatedly, Sonic slaps his hands away, throwing his eyes to the ground, but he’s unable to keep them fixated there when Shadow starts laughing. He leans back on his arms and regards Sonic with a tilt of his head and lips.

“Have your hiccups passed?” Sonic nods. Shadow sighs through his nose then tilts his head back to observe the moon. The wind passes by and rustles his quills gently, drying the tears Sonic left on his ebony fur. Sonic watches on, mindlessly captivated. His body is still, even more so than before his reality broke. Sonic takes a deep breath, then releases it. Shadow keeps his eyes fixed on the floating rock in the sky. “It’s beautiful.”

Sonic nods.

[mint-and-authoress]

Slime HRT - First Step (Part Two)

“…and this last drug is Vasopressin, which is a standard water retention drug. Usually patients are plagued by constant thirst on this regimen, so we’ve started to prescribe this to combat it.”

This owl sure knew his stuff.

The appointment had gone perfectly, all things considered. After securing a follow-up appointment for a month in the future, Elise was walking out of the clinic with a copy of her prescription. Some of these medicines were vaguely familiar – she’d heard of salicylic acid in a chemistry class – but some of these drugs were of a fantastical nature. Myochitinase, homolipastat? These weren’t real things. You couldn’t get slime estradiol at a pharmacy.

Though…was there much use in thoughts like those anymore? She was in a city that didn’t exist, drawn by a promise from a made up company, and had been prescribed four different make-believe drugs by a six-foot-four bird in a labcoat. Reality had been blurred in the past four-ish hours, so maybe it was time to accept what she had just been given.

Plus, it wasn’t as though this city was strictly human, either. Granted, that was a majority of the population, but there were others who didn’t fit the label, not by any sense. Dragons, centaurs, other creatures of myth, and just about any kind of animal in the kingdom. Even things outside of animals, evident by the occasional dryad(?) that happened to pass her by.

Though, in spite of it all, no slimes. They could’ve just been inside, it was something like 85 degrees even here in the city. Which begged the question: what was going to change as the changes began and progressed? She’d done her research, and had asked around for advice, but the unfortunate truth was that slimes were a bit rare in this world of exotic creatures and their transspecies equivalents.

Basically, fat chance that Elise would meet someone like herself.

Such thoughts were muted as the day went on. The pharmacy in the city had the set of drugs she was in search of, and was able to set up a delivery schedule for her refills. Her medicines all looked uncannily similar to her existing HRT, but Elise could not deny that something was different about the drugs themselves, and it was hard not to describe them as ‘slimy.’

‘Well,’ she thought later that night as she took her first dose, ‘here goes nothing.’

PART TWO PART TWO GET YOUR COPY NOW

So I didn't do as much writing as part 1 (damn you writers block ;~;) so instead!!! Information Pamphlet!!

Human Replacement Therapy for Transspecies Slimefolk

Drug #1 - Myochitinase: 1mL intramuscular injection once weekly

The primary drug in slime human replacement therapy. The drug chemically changes the present myocytes (muscle cells) into chitin. Effects include increased translucence and thinning of skin, decreased muscle mass to make way for gel matrix mass, and decreased resistance to illness due to increased permeablility of the skin. 

Drug #2 - Homolipastat: 100mg gel capsules once daily

The auxiliary drug in slime HRT. Similar in concept to human feminising HRT drug spironolactone and its alternatives, where homolipastat is utilised in preventing the reproduction of present myocetes. Further decreases muscle mass during conversion of muscle to gel matrix.

Drug #3 - Salicylic Acid: 30g ointment tube once weekly

Non-specific drug used to assist in the breakdown of skin cells in preparation for conversion to surface membrane.

Drug #4 - Vasopressin: 1 μL subcutaneous injection once daily

Optional antidiuretic used for water retention during initial stages of transition.

Affirming Treatments for Transspecies Slimefolk

Slime Stem Cell Therapy - Advised after one year of medical transition

Regular series of stem cell injections promoting transformation of organs to a core. Treatment includes pain relief and at-home assistance is strongly recommended.

Pigment Alteration Therapy - Optional as medical transition progresses

Pigment drugs such as melanin or other compounds may be started to change the colour of the individual later on in transition.

I LOVE YOU ALL STAY SLIMY :3 :3 :3

Last || Next

[captainmalewriter]

Hey, I think I found one of your capsules, it's orange with a gold ring, I was walking alone in the middle of the night coming back from work, when I heard something falling, inside a dark alley, when I went to look, there was only this capsule on the floor, I swear I didn't open it, when I took it, the package opened by accident.

Congratulations, you found my missing orange with a gold ring capsule! Here's what happened when you found it...

It was certainly strange to find some plastic toy capsule laying in the middle of a dark alley. You went to have a look for yourself and were in awe when you found a capsule with a glimmering gold ring on it! At first you assumed it was just a cheap, plastic ring, but something about its golden sheen seemed a little too real to be fake... You decided to take it home with you, but the moment you picked it up, it opened by itself.

Your jaw dropped as the opening pop echoed throughout the empty alley. The bottom half of the capsule fell to the ground while the top half was still in your hand. You didn't think the capsule would be so fragile. Thankfully, nothing dangerous jumped out of the capsule the moment it opened. You sighed a breath of relief as a result. You looked inside the capsule half you were holding and found nothing but air inside. The other half of the prize ball had rolled next to your feet. You could see something glimmering inside of it. You bent down and picked it up. Inside of it was a pair of gold hoop earrings!!

You gasped at the sight of them. Wasting no time, you quickly pulled them out and discarded the capsule. You then ran to a nearby street light to inspect them closely. As far as you could tell, they seemed like they were real gold! However, you also weren't much of a jewelry guy, so you knew you'd need a professional opinion to be 100% sure.

But just as you were about to turn around to leave, you felt a sudden impulse to put on the earrings. You didn't have pierced ears, nor have you ever really wanted to get them pierced. Yet, as you held the golden hoops, all you could think about was putting them on. You took a second look at them and noticed that despite looking like they were made out of real gold, they were clip-on earrings! Learning that made you grin. Without further hesitation, you decided to put them on. You clipped a ring onto each ear and immediately felt the added weight on your ears. It was a strange, new feeling you had never experienced before, but even though you couldn't see yourself, you loved the way it felt to have them on. They felt right at home on your ears.

As you stood on the sidewalk basking in a moment of self-admiration, the magic embedded within the gold earrings got it work. It activated the moment you put on the earrings. The gold earrings started transforming you into their former owner. All of the muscle groups in your body tightened until you had a muscular yet slim physique. Blotches of black ink formed underneath your skin, shaping and reshaping themselves until they formed intricate tattoos that covered the upper half of your torso. Your lips became fuller, giving you a pair of voluptuous lips that would leave anyone who saw them begging for a kiss. Even the body fat you had in your face seemingly melted away, leaving behind a sharp jawline that could cut an apple with its well defined contours. Thanks to the golden earrings, you had become the epitome of male beauty with your masculine yet well-groomed looks.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. While your body was being magically transformed by the gold earrings, all you felt was some slight nausea. Thankfully, after some deep breathing, the nausea went away.

"I am Bryan Yang... I'm 26 years old, and I'm a male model... I workout six times a week, and I always hold myself to high expectations by setting the example of what a man should be... I am young, I am hot, and I need everyone to know it...!"

You repeated that short mantra to yourself over and over again. At first, it felt weird saying those words. It was as if you were being forced to say you were Bryan Yang. However, the more you repeated it, the more real it felt. Your brain had been rewired to take on the identity of the guy who used to own those gold earrings. You are Bryan Yang, you have always been Bryan Yang, and you will always be Bryan Yang.

That last thought made a smile grow across your face. But it wasn't just any smile, it was the smirk of a cocky motherfucker who knew he was hot and wasn't afraid to show it off. You flexed your jacked arms and gave your rock hard bicep a kiss. You then left the dark alleyway with a confident stride in your step, ready to claim your place as the world's hottest man.

But just before you left, you realized you almost forgot one important thing. You walked back to where you discarded the toy capsule. Once you found it, you squatted down and flipped over the halves. In doing so, one more gold ring fell out. Just like earrings, this third ring also belonged to old Bryan Yang. But unlike the first two rings, this one wasn't meant to be worn on the ears. No, this gold ring was a cock ring.

You smirked as you held the gold cock ring in your hand. It looked like the one you used to own, it had your initials engraved on it too. But just to be sure, you decided to try it on right then and there. You unzipped your jeans and let your cock and balls flop out. Your balls were hanging low, likely due to the fact that they were filled with your spunk just waiting to be shot out. You gave your soft dick a few pumps until it started getting hard. Soon enough, your cock stood tall at a cool 7 inches with some nice girth to match too. You grinned, even your manhood was perfect.

You slowed down the speed of your strokes as you slipped the cock ring on. You moaned as the ring squeezed past your sensitive cock head and started sliding down the length of your member. You moved the gold ring down until it sat at the base of your cock, resting against your trimmed bush of black pubic hair. You then continued jerking off with the cock ring hugging your dick. With the ring on, your already well-endowed dick grew to 7.75 inches with some extra width too. You grunted as you thrusted your cock into your hand. Your engorged dick was ready to burst with cum, but you abstained from finishing. After all, you needed to save your load for the lucky soul you were about to bless in bed. You took the ring off your cock, zipped up your jeans, and left into the dark of night, ready to give someone the time of their life as the fiendishly handsome and arrogant Bryan Yang.

Hope you enjoy the new body prize you won from finding my lost capsule!

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Emerging

Wow stumpy - another Flood fic? Yes I like imagery and prose. Title from the song off the album Moon Colony Bloodbath about organ harvesting colonies on the moon. It fits.

Flood POV of "Something Has Happened" from Tales from Slipspace.

-

Hunger moves the body forward. Hunger and loneliness. It - they - need more. Too much energy to think, not enough mass yet. Instinct drives them towards the incubators - cryo tubes, the host brain provides. Context is meaningless, there is sustenance beyond this metal and glass. Sustenance and knowledge.

It was large once. It consumed thousands of fleets, galaxies of flesh and meat and bone, it gathered many under its own mantle. It provided the answers to life and death and a thousand more questions. Then it had been burned by those that came after and before. Left to starve and wait, but time was always on its side.

A rest for the chorus. A lull in the hymn. Voices silenced for but a moment, drawing breath before the crescendo and the return.

There were always mistakes - the vermin kept it weak and small for study. Kept it separated and isolated and frozen, but time was its ally and its sword. These new beings with their false confidence and pitiful weapons. Ancilla, combat skins, and fire. Naught but ants biting as their nest is overturned.

Commandeering vehicles was difficult at this stage, but stowing away was simple. Instinctual. Borrowed muscle and memory of layouts. Ships meant fleets, meant hangars and hallways and dark spaces. A way off their weapon-worlds. A way to spread anew.

Animal fear spiked in the half-subsumed host. Adrenaline and pheromones cataloged and then silenced. Such a strange way of being. So sad. Weak and alone. What was one compared to many-in-one? Compared to a veritable colony of minds blended together? Mycelium supporting itself. Sending resources across the expanse of its network. Ever spreading, ever consuming, ever joining. Why could they not see? Animal minds, small, isolated, and crowded with fear and thoughts of continuing. But they were wrong! Enlightenment awaited them - it - we.

The cryo tubes gleam in the low light. This host knows the codes, knows the Ancilla is too old, too curious, too wrong to take action. She had been watching for days. Didn't even make coffee when she woke SN 82201-42910-VM. No move to stop it from learning as well. An Engineering Specialist made for an excellent first convert.

The cryo pod opens under its tendrils and misshapen limbs, like roots spreading through a garden. Fresh soil, nutrients, knowledge - all absorbed under its growing mass. More voices to join, more knowledge to learn. Mass brought more thoughts, more plans, and the ability to seek out specific new hosts. There were such gifts inside these capsules. Offerings of sustenance and expansion, mind and soul.

Another pod hisses open without its prying touch. This one has a being in a combat skin. A Spartan, the meat supplies. Spartans send strange feelings through the consumed. Hope. Relief. And then a flare of animal instincts as it understands more of what this new threat means. More than just mass and knowledge, this Spartan brings fire and loss.

It throws explosives on the vessel, destroying infector pods and equipment haphazardly. The Spartan uses a primitive ballistic weapon to destroy the mass of a newly converted "Lieutenant Kwan". Names mean nothing in the chorus but Kwan was different from Maldini, had new knowledge. The Mass loses some of the combat skills he would have brought if fully subsumed.  

The Mass had grown large enough that the Chorus had started. Voices joining in joyous outrage. A fight for survival that made the blood sing. Together, it had grabbed a gun and fired back at the threat. The combat skin of the Spartan held and it returned fire on that branch of the Mass. Voices silenced until it could scrape itself back together and release spores. All it needed was time.

Time made all fall before it. The Ancilla was nothing and this Spartan would fall soon. Then it would integrate with the ship and spread.

The first host is strong. The others are too new. It's been weak for too long, controlling shaky limbs still getting used to this new life stumble and fall to the Spartan's fire. But the main body learns even as voices drop from the chorus. They live on elsewhere.

There are more sleeping bodies hidden away, another cryo bay through a hangar. More voices, more blessed sustenance. Another Mass to be held, holy and true. They will be strong again. United against these weak, lonely animals. Food for the congregation. Lambs to the slaughter. Language comes with more knowledge from these humans. Ancient memories rise up as well. It was always humans, wasn't it?

The next bay comes into view through borrowed eyes. It hears the Spartan approach and the pods on its back spring into action. They thought it a mindless beast when all of them were vermin before it. At the height of its being, it consumed planets. The Spartan and Ancilla and weak waking humans would witness and convert. No longer concealed, it was time to feed.

The berths were set to open, codes entered minutes before it escaped the lockdown. Time was its ally. The infectors latched onto the weak combat skin, testing its strength. Prodding for weaknesses, it heard the garbled radio of the furious mouse in its talons and the dying Ancilla. It was too late.

A bay door opens and it is pulled from the ship. The Spartan in its clutches, its voiceless cry interrupts the song as it scrambles for the boosters on the combat skin. Parts of the chorus are drifting away, frozen and falling silent. The Spartan lashes out and frees itself. The last thing it sees as it tumbles away into the dark is the shrinking vision of green on gray. The Spartan clinging to the hull like a parasite.

A muffled voice of the dying chorus cheers its fate. Humans…so vindictive. Vicious little things. 

The Spirit of Fire flies on.

[clownhoodieguy]

An unidentified object crashes into your backyard - well, less of a backyard and more like an open field that you happen to own.

Examining the red hot ruins of what appears to be an escape capsule, the interior of the emergency shuttle indicating that whatever was inside seems to be anthropomorphic.

A glace behind the smoldering wreckage reveals that it's inhabitant didn't make it all that far from the crater, a massive, hulking creature laying limp in the dewy grass.

Guess you finally have a use for that sled, huh? Since it doesn't snow here anymore. Sliding the extraterrestrial onto your sled, you heave the being all the way back home.

Days pass, nothing. You're too scared to handle the alien any further, and they may well have passed away from their injuries long ago. Investigating the crash site reveals little to nothing about the creature, as anything comprehendible was either destroyed in the impact, or melted on the way down to earth.

Judging by the scraps of clothes just barely clinging onto the creature's body, they don't appear to be all that advanced, more resembling what a tribal warrior would dawn before heading into battle. The material the cloth and faux feather were made of tell a different tale, as some crude experimentation reveals it's sheer durability.

One particularly cool evening, while you are applying a damp cloth to their burns and cuts, it stirs, then awakens. All four of their eyes flick open, their slit pupils dashing over to you.

Before you even have a chance to react, it grabs your shoulders, yanking you in close, and thanks you from the deepest parts of their twin hearts...

By devouring you.

[Tw: vore, blood, mild injury from here onwards.]

Your head grazes the warrior's serrated fangs, leaving shallow gashes around the back of your head, it's hard to tell if the warm, thick fluid flowing over your face is saliva or blood.

Roughly cramming your dome down it's gullet, the surrounding walls firmly squeeze and suck you down the being body, muscular hands gripping your form and funneling it down their neck.

Any kicking and squirm was soon quashed by the deep scrapping of this alien monster's razor sharp claws, the claw marks all over your arms, legs and back burning like hot coals.

Finally, relief from the constant squeezing and rippling of your devourer's gulch - though this wasn't much better. Plunged face first into a puddle of green, glowing goo, and forced to remain under it as the rest of your shredded, blooded body piles in.

This is it, this is what you get for trying to be kind. You put in so much time and resources into saving this being's life, only to end up as it's- BRWOOOOAAARP!~

Disgusting, it unleashes a deep, unapologetic belch into the evening air, shrinking your confinements down until you're forced to hug your legs.

Ugh, and now those cuts are starting to itch, it must be that sludge you're now generously slathered in, seeping into every open gash and scratch. What a terrible way to end.

It speaks to you, their voice is rough, hardened, with a hint of teasing to their words. Maybe it was mocking you? Hard to tell when their language isn't even from earth.

Your world shifts, and so does the alien, the imprint of that hand presses inwards, steadily holding you in place as they arise from their "bed", which was just a couple of old mattresses on your dinning table.

Their bones crack and pop loudly with each movement, and it groans softly, perhaps relief in the ability to stretch their muscles again. After a few soft pets to the lump in their belly, it relaxes it's abdomen and gives you some wiggle room, a reward for settling down.

Speaking of that, the itching becomes unbearable, and with the gift of squirming space, you take the scratching your wounds.

Instead of tearing them open, opening your gashes for their stomach juices to flow in and break you down further, your scaring tissue scrapes away to reveal new skin. It's a little pink and raw, being a fresh new layer of skin, but its... not bleeding anymore.

The undulating walls around you close in again, the alien is hugging their stomach, claws gliding over the protruding paunch. For some reason, the smell is only just hitting you now, it doesn't reek like stomach juices should - which sort of makes sense, being that you're in an alien stomach.

It smells distinctly of honey and vinegar, and it's beginning to make your head spin!

You feel drunk, words slur and there's pins and needles in your fingers. Running your hands along the slick, squishy insides of the alien seems to temporarily relieve those pins and needles.

At this point, you're so intensely drowsy from the adrenaline rush fading away, the rapid healing process, and this drunken trance, that you cannot help but slump over to one side of the stomach and let the world get blurry until your faint.

Darkness. Sleep, or death? Oh, nope, you've just had the strangest fever dream where you were trapped in a familiar place that had been merged with another familiar place, you guys ever get those dreams? Uh- sorry.

Light at the end of a tunnel, it's rays of purifying white blind you to anything else around you.

Blurgk-

Forced from the extraterrestrial's stomach and onto a cushy cot, you bring your hands to your face and flick away a heaping glob of drool. It lears above you grinning widely at their catch.

This was not home, the gravity here was much too strong, and the stars are usually not this bright. Apparently they managed to call for rescue, but decided you were just too fun to leave behind.

The mattress under you creaks and groans as they alien plonks themself down next to you, slipping those frightening claws under your arms and lifting you into their lap like you would with a cat.

It clips a little badge to your soggy shirt, then beeps to life. The alien speaks in their tongue.

"Hello hello? Testing, calibrating... am I coming through clearly?", the magical translation device transforms it's words into cohesive English for you, with very marginal error.

For a while, you exchange words with the alien, discovering things about their culture and sharing things about yours. You were correct about the assumptions that they were a warrior race, they were forced to abandon ship, else they get killed in an unforseen abush.

After many-a story telling, fatigue takes hold again, and their strong, solid arms feel so safe and cozy. Seeing as you were growing unresponsive again, they'd hug you closely to their torso as you slumber to the rhythmic beating of their duel hearts.

===============================

Hhhhhhh I hope others like this as much as I do, I love cruel preds turned gentle so much! Wish I could've written more, but I need to study.

[bloodxhound]

are the memories you lost truly important to you, if your brain refuses to bring them back?

     𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. He doesn’t know where it came from, that taunting voice pinning his heart with doubts like it’s due for a dissection. He can slice it open himself, scrutinize it for its contents — all without a shoulder-borne devil spitting poison into his ear. The sting of his conscience is more than enough. He’s swirling his glass in his hand, watching amber liquid slosh against its rim like waves crashing into a cliffside. Turbulent, just as the landscape of his mind. His throat burns, his eyes swim, the edge of his vision blurry and soft. He’s on his third—or fourth, maybe fifth—drink; he didn’t care to count tonight. What awaits him at the bottom of this one, oblivion or insight?

     It doesn’t suit him to entertain such doubts, nor to harbor them in the first place. He knows his memories are important to him. The quiver of his heart proves it, that painful contraction begging for relief as he picks it apart, muscle for muscle, sentiment for sentiment. No one but him could be as thorough, as cruel. If he truly didn’t care, this self-flagellation would not be possible. The original conundrum remains however. There’s a place in his mind he cannot breach. It transcends the act of forgetting, leaving him to wonder whether there has been a purpose to this. He thinks of time capsules then. Buried, hidden, safe. Something prized and cherished, to be rediscovered when the time is right. In the absence of any concrete insights, he needs to trust his battered heart for now, that he did not discard, but safeguarded.